


Just admit it, you like each other

by Rosetylars



Series: Saschanos [1]
Category: Sports RPF, Tennis RPF
Genre: Accidental Dating, First Date, Fluff, Indian Wells, M/M, Sascha is a clumsy wreck, Secret Crush, boys are silly and don’t realise they like each other, madrid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-07 05:09:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19078114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosetylars/pseuds/Rosetylars
Summary: “Don’t be silly, he likes you back, I know it. I heard him talking to his dog about you.”Or, a fic in which Sascha and Stef both like each other but refuse to admit it to themselves, let alone each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is fiction! The people and places are real, but the story is not.

Sascha was not jealous of Stefanos Tsitsipas. Not at all. The comparisons people drew between the two of them were totally ridiculous - Sascha was far more accomplished in his career, and there was no reason to think about someone who hadn’t even won a Masters, right?

Really, Sascha mused to himself, the only things they had in common were long hair and an Adidas sponsorship. The anonymous comment that “the pink headband truly looks so much better on Stef” meant nothing to Sascha - he did not give one tiny thought to the pretty pink headband taming Stefanos’ golden caramel curls, framing his tanned skin - not one thought.

Sascha wasn’t hugely into social media yet he couldn’t escape all the news about Stefanos. Marseille title, top 10, and a loss in the Dubai final to Federer within the space of two weeks. Sascha didn’t care though - he had a great run in Acapulco, losing out in the final to Kyrgios, and then won the doubles championship with Mischa in the same day. Stefanos was irrelevant. 

Yet somehow, Sascha couldn’t stop thinking about him. The other week he had posted a story of himself lip syncing to some songs, and Sascha had found it extremely cringe worthy. So cringe worthy, in fact, that he went back and watched it a few times, just to make himself cringe. Definitely not because he wanted to see the tantalising depth of Stef’s gorgeous brown eyes, or the bashful smile that unfurled across his face when he messed up the Spanish song...

He snapped himself out of his reverie with a frustrated shake of his head. Who gives a damn about stupid Tsitsipas? It was as if Sascha’s brain knew about their proximity - Indian Wells was a notoriously beautiful, enjoyable tournament that Sascha normally loved, but that morning he had caught a glimpse of those damned caramel curls in the hotel lobby and felt like his heart was stopped and then put in a blender. He hadn’t seen Stefanos since the Australian Open, and it seemed like he looked so much more mature while still looking the same. Sascha shook himself mentally - these thoughts were ridiculous. But they kept coming, and Sascha resigned himself to the fact that he was staying in the same hotel as the object of these thoughts for the entirety of the ten day tournament, and he was going to have to deal with it. 

***  
The two men crossed paths again a few days later when the tournament had gotten underway. Stefanos was just finishing up from a light practice session with his father, packing up his things in the locker room, when it all happened. 

Mischa Zverev emerged from the shower block in peals of laughter, running past Stef and out of the room, holding a towel and a pile of clothes that were clearly his brother’s. 

Stef heard a loud “fucking hell, Mischa, get back here, you’re such a dickhead,” from inside a shower cubicle. He would’ve known Sascha’s voice anywhere. He chuckled softly to himself, but then heard a quieter plea of “oh, shit, what do I do?”

The water cut off in the shower and Stef was in quite a predicament. He could leave right then and pretend he was never there, or he could admit he was there and help the man he was supposed to be rivals with, according to the media. But Stef couldn’t just leave someone stranded like that - he had grown up with three siblings and had been on the receiving end of a few annoying pranks over the years. He made his decision. 

“Is that you, Sascha? Do you need help?” He called, approaching the area with all the shower cubicles. Only one was locked, so he knew he was the only person around to be Sascha’s hero. 

“Is that Stefanos? Please, my brother took all my clothes hanging over the door, I can’t leave naked,” Sascha whined, his voice a little bit frantic. 

Stef had to think quickly. He knew he had a spare tournament-issued towel and some clean Adidas gear in his locker. “Hang on, I’ll be a second,” Stef replied, and went to retrieve his things. 

When he passed them over the shower door he couldn’t help but blush imagining the man behind it. He made his way back to his locker to pretend he was busy and definitely not lingering. Stef doesn’t linger. 

Sascha emerged a few minutes later, a bit flustered but dry and at least wearing a t-shirt and shorts. “Shit, thank you for that,” Sascha exhaled, “stupid brothers.”

Stef smiled at this. “Once, my little sister covered me in my mother’s lipstick while I slept, when she was about five,” he chuckled, “my brother took a thousand pictures.”

Sascha smiled. He couldn’t believe the situation he was in. Ten minutes ago he had been trapped naked in a shower and now he’s wearing Stefanos’ clothes and having the most easy chat they’d ever shared. 

They didn’t cross paths again that tournament, but Stef returned to his locker two days later and saw the clothes and towel washed and folded in front of his locker, with a little handwritten note - “Thanks :) x” 

That little handwritten kiss haunted Stef for the following months. 

*****  
Madrid, May 2019

Little did Stef know, writing that little kiss had haunted Sascha too. Was it too much? Had he given his stupid crush away? 

Stefanos had been in hot form the last few weeks, topped off with a title in Estoril. Even if Sascha wasn’t being bombarded with news about the other man’s successes, which he was, his brain decided to torture him by dreaming about him at night. 

Sascha decided the best way to get his mind off this stupid crush would be to visit the hotel sauna. If he were honest with himself, he kind of hoped to sweat whatever this mild infatuation with Stefanos was out of his system. He threw on a pair of board shorts, grabbed his key pass and headed to floor four where the indoor pool, sauna and gym were. Finally glad to have something to fix his mind on, he opened the wooden sauna door, and - 

Froze. Despite the heat. 

Lazing horizontally on the wooden bench, eyes closed, mind clearly elsewhere, like always - Stefanos. 

Once again, Sascha’s heart felt like it went down a waterslide. The figment of his frequent, persistent thoughts was right before his eyes. He must have made an audible noise, because Stef opened his eyes, recognised who was in front of him, and startled. He sat bolt upright. 

Sascha tried to speak like a normal person but all that came out was “Fuck, sorry,” and he turned around to leave again, rattled. 

“Wait,” Stefanos exclaimed, flustered. He realised he had the chance to actually speak to Sascha for the first time since the thank you note and he didn’t want to let it slip between his fingers. He regathered his thoughts and Sascha turned around once again to face him. Stefanos ran a hand through his hair, self conscious about the way the last ten seconds had panned out. He took a breath. “This isn’t a personal sauna, Sascha,” Stefanos joked, “you don’t have to leave.” 

Sascha eyed the empty bench warily. Sitting on it would place him in the direct eye line of Stefanos’ abs... even though he definitely wasn’t looking. Not at all. His own body was so much better anyway... 

Stefanos really wanted to break the ice, have a normal conversation. But were the two of them even friends? He honestly didn’t have a clue. All he knew was he liked how he felt when Sascha looked at him. Was that weird?

“I didn’t know you were staying here,” Stefanos said, then mentally slapped himself - he didn’t normally keep tabs on Sascha’s whereabouts, did he?

“No, you neither,” Sascha said. They both kept digging their own holes to awkward discomfort. “It’s a lovely resort.”

Stef hummed in agreement and the two men sat there, in a very awkward silence. The uncomfortable moment continued to stretch longer until Stef’s hip began to vibrate. 

Sascha eyed him warily, watching as Stef pulled out a phone that probably shouldn’t have come into the sauna with him, and answered it. He couldn’t eavesdrop if he tried - the following conversation was all spoken in soft Greek. 

“Uh, sorry,” Stef mumbled, “that was my sister. She wants to go swimming in the outdoor pool,” he explained. 

Sascha was furious with himself for the pang of disappointment he felt. He didn’t let it show. “That’s nice, see you around then,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Stef stood up and Sascha focussed very hard on the wooden bench next to him and definitely not on Stef’s defined muscles. 

“See you around,” Stef agreed, and as he left, he added with a shy smile, “good luck this week.”

***  
Stefanos couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed and disappointed that he’d squandered the opportunity to actually hang out with Sascha. He cursed the awkwardness of the situation. 

He made his way back the hotel suite that his parents and little sister were staying in and knocked on the door. Liza opened it with a smile and greeted him with a hug. 

“I’ve only been gone for half an hour,” he laughed, but returned her cuddle. Stef adored his siblings but his eleven year old sister was especially sweet. “Ready to swim?” 

She nodded, and Stef gathered a couple of towels to take outside. 

Once they reached their destination, Stef couldn’t help himself. “You wouldn’t believe who I saw in the sauna,” he blurted out. 

Liza eyed him suspiciously. “Medvedev?” 

Stef couldn’t help but laugh. “Thankfully, not him. Sascha Zverev,” he said. 

She pondered this as they got in the pool. “Does he know you have a crush on him yet?” 

At this point, Stefanos was incredibly lucky they were in a pool, because his legs caved in surprise and he found himself momentarily floundering on his back. He spat some rogue water from his mouth and choked, “what?!”

Liza giggled at his predicament. “Don’t say I’m wrong, I know you have pictures of him on your phone! You should ask him out for dinner,” she stated matter-of-factly. 

Stef barely recovered from nearly drowning himself in a 1.3m deep pool and found himself drowning in unresolved feelings instead. “That- that’s ridiculous, Elizavet, don’t say that!” Then for his own honour, he added quietly: “Those pictures were promotional material from Adidas, I didn’t save them.”

“Don’t be silly, he likes you back, I know it. I heard him talking to his dog about you.”

Stefanos was almost certain he was dreaming because this was the strangest conversation of his life. 

Liza spoke again before Stef could remember how to make words with his mouth. “Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out! Do you want to have a race?” 

Stef was totally rattled, but he forced himself to clear the thoughts of Sascha from his head in order to enjoy the afternoon with his sister. He tried to convince himself she was making it all up about Sascha actually liking him... despite the butterflies he felt when he considered the idea. 

***  
When Stef got back to his own hotel room, he had a shower to get rid of the chlorine from his skin and hair. He had just finished up and slung a towel around his hips when his phone vibrated with a text message. 

He expected it to be his dad, trying to plan their practice session the next day. But, to his extreme shock, his phone lit up with the one name he couldn’t fathom: Sascha Zverev. 

His heart rate felt like it tripled while he swiped his screen to read the message: 

“Hey, that sounds great, I’d love to :-) how’s 7pm?”

Stefanos furrowed his brow in confusion before realising this text thread had another message in it before Sascha’s, supposedly from himself, that he didn’t recognise. Just four words, that made Stef’s stomach drop:

“Hey Sascha, dinner tonight?” 

Then he remembered Liza grabbing his phone earlier in the afternoon, to supposedly film him doing a flip into the pool. 

He freaked out. 

Did his sister really just organise him a date with Sascha?!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of the kind feedback on the first part! Here is part two, hope you enjoy!

It was 6pm and Stefanos was stressed. He hadn’t exactly packed his clothing for this tournament with a date in mind. Was this even a date? Did Sascha think it was a date or just bros having bro time? Were they even bros? Stef shook his head. He couldn’t believe what his sister had gotten him into. 

Thankfully, he usually liked to wear shirts when he went out for dinner during tournaments, so he had a few options. He laid his three top picks out on the bed in front of him, and considered them. The first shirt was plain black, the middle one was blue, lighter than navy, with a floral pattern, and the last one was solid red. He decided the red wasn’t right: too romantic. The black one wasn’t right either: too moody. He stared at the blue one: it was his personal favourite, but would that give Sascha the wrong idea? Would Sascha even notice his shirt? What if Sascha thought tonight was a t-shirt thing? Stef sighed, and picked up the blue one to put on. 

He and Sascha had continued the text thread that Liza had started, planning to meet at a restaurant that had a few great reviews but wasn’t very well known. Stef was quietly grateful for this choice - he didn’t know how he would explain this situation to other players or people who knew them, when Stef didn’t understand the situation himself. He knew that it was a twenty minute walk from the hotel, so he wanted to set off thirty minutes early to make sure he was on time. 

He’d gotten ready with time to spare, so he sat down and tried to chill himself out. 

***  
It was 6:50pm and Sascha was stressed. He didn’t know where the time went - he had planned to wear a green shirt but then Mischa told him the colour reminded him of vomit, and Sascha didn’t want to remind Stef of vomit, so he sent himself into a spiral of worry looking through the few scrunched up shirts he had at the bottom of his travelling bag. None of them were even close to wearable, and he wanted to scream. 

“Where are you going that requires a shirt, anyway?” Mischa enquired. 

“Out,” Sascha mumbled. “Can I borrow one of yours?” 

Mischa handed him a crisp grey shirt from the wardrobe with a shake of his head. “Out with?” 

“Nobody.”

“I know you love yourself, Sasch, but dressing to impress yourself is starting to look a little conceited.”

Sascha let out a strangled cry. “Stefanos, okay? I have to rush, I’m so late-“ he looked at the clock and swore. 

Mischa looked dumbfounded. “You guys are friends?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Help me find my damn shoes Mischa!” Sascha was rushing beyond belief. Their reservation was in five minutes and he was wearing one shoe and a misbuttoned shirt. He was going to be so late. 

***  
Stef arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early, as he expected. The waiter directed him to table 27, and offered him a drink, which Stef politely declined. He was a bundle of nerves, and drinking before a tournament started wasn’t in his fitness plan. He checked his phone and noticed a text from Liza: “Good luck! Be urself and he’ll love u <3” 

Her sweet message made him smile. He considered calling her, but didn’t want to be on a call when Sascha arrived, because that would look terribly rude. He settled with sending back a sticker of dinosaurs cuddling each other. 

He checked the time: 6:54pm. He told himself to relax, he and Sascha hadn’t even planned to meet by now. 

***  
At 7pm Sascha was tearing through the hotel lobby, desperately trying to summon an Uber. He finally connected with a ride, which claimed to be 8 minutes away, but then the driver cancelled his fare. Sascha swore, fumbling with his phone to try to order another one. He ran through the foyer doors and stood out the front, anxiously waiting for “David, 4.6 stars” to pick him up. Sascha’s screen told him that David was 6 minutes away, and that the ride would take 5. He was going to be so late. 

***  
At 7:10pm, Stef was sure he’d been stood up. He figured it must have all been a sick joke by Sascha, making Stef look like a fool for really believing Sascha wanted to hang out. The waiter had returned to Stef’s table fifteen minutes ago, offering to take his order, but Stef told him he was waiting for somebody. It didn’t help that the waiter and other restaurant patrons kept giving Stef pitying looks. He felt sick. Every minute felt like an eternity, sitting alone at the table, feeling like the punchline of a sad, horrible joke. 

At 7:15pm, Sascha ran through the restaurant doors and everybody inside turned to have a look at the source of a big bang at the entry. In his rush, Sascha had managed to knock over a decorative potted tree. Broken terracotta and soil were scattered all over the plush grey carpet. Sascha was mortified. He apologised profusely to the staff, and knelt down to try and scoop the damage into a small pile, only managing to make it all worse, accidentally grinding the soil deeper into the carpet. 

The waiter placed a hand on his shoulder. “Please just leave it, it’s okay. Do you have a reservation?”

Sascha spoke a million words in two seconds. “I’m late, I don’t know, he’s probably gone, it was meant to be 7 but I stuffed it up, I didn’t want to look like vomit-“

“I think,” the waiter cut him off, without even checking the reservation list, “you’ll find that you’re on table 27.” 

Sascha thanked him, and apologised several times more for the mess he’d made on the way in. 

Stef sighed with relief when he saw Sascha arrive. He wasn’t the punchline after all. Maybe that was Sascha, he mused, after the situation with the pot plant. 

Sascha was mortified by the time he reached the table. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” he whined, “everything went wrong. I’m such an idiot.”

As he stood up, Stef smiled for the first time in what felt like hours. “It’s cool, you’re here now. That was pretty funny,” he grinned. 

Stef wasn’t sure whether they were on hugging terms yet, so he was pleasantly surprised when Sascha reached out for a quick hug himself. 

They sat across from each other at the table, both quietly relieved to be seated without any further drama. 

“I really am sorry about being late,” Sascha grimaced, “but I’m really glad to be here.”

Stef was surprised by the kind statement. “It’s okay, don’t worry. The only issue was the sad looks I got from strangers thinking I was a loner,” he laughed. 

Sascha laughed. “They probably couldn’t believe such a good looking guy would be alone for dinner.”

A confused look made its way to Stef’s face. 

“I mean you,” Sascha laughed. 

Stef scoffed in disbelief. Was Sascha actually flirting with him? Was this a dream? “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Sascha,” Stef said bashfully. 

Sascha ducked his head to hide his blush. “I guess I haven’t said much to you in general,” he noted. 

The waiter returned to take their orders and both boys were embarrassed from their previous interactions with him. They both ordered steak, Sascha asking for a diet cola and Stef asking for a lemon squash.

“I reckon that guy wants to ban me from here,” Sascha joked, “threat to the community.”

“Or just a threat to pot plants,” Stef mused with a smile.

“The draw comes out tonight, doesn’t it?” Sascha commented, after a moment. 

“Yeah,” Stef answered, “I just saw it before you got here. We could meet in the quarters,” he laughed. 

Sascha groaned. “I’m still salty about Toronto!”

Stef laughed. “You said it was a pathetic match, Sascha.”

“Sorry. I was sulking. Let’s just say my family weren’t thrilled with my attitude that day,” Sascha admitted. 

“I’ll try to forgive you,” Stef joked.

“Maybe we can kiss and make up eventually,” Sascha said. 

Stef almost spat out his lemon squash. Was this a figure of speech, or did Sascha actually mean it? Idioms were confusing in general, let alone in both of their third languages. Stef decided to return to the original topic with an idiom of his own. “I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

“Very true,” Sascha replied, and the meals arrived before he could insert his foot any deeper into his mouth. 

***  
When the waiter brought them the bill, both boys wanted to pay. The simplest solution was for them to split it, which they did without fuss. 

Since they were staying at the same hotel, Sascha suggested they walk back together. 

“Only if you promise not to break anything on the way back,” Stef teased. 

Sascha scoffed. “Break one pot plant and everyone thinks you’re a danger...”

“It’s okay, I trust you,” Stef laughed. He fought down the urge to reach for Sascha’s hand and mentally shook himself. 

They set off towards the hotel. 

“There’s a big football match on tonight,” Sascha remarked, “are you going to watch it?”

Stef felt like a bit of a goose for ignoring Sascha’s flirting, and realised this was his chance to go out on a limb. “Yeah, do you want to watch it together?” He hoped Sascha didn’t notice he was holding his breath, biting his lip. 

Sascha didn’t see that coming at all. “Yeah,” he said, but when it came out too surprised, he added, “yeah. I’d love to.”

***  
Stef’s hotel room was a lot neater than Sascha’s own. All his belongings were packed away in his bags, or neatly laid on the bedside table and dresser. 

Stef offered Sascha a seat on the couch and collected a packet of popcorn from the cupboard, placing it in the microwave. He set the television to the channel of their match. 

“I must admit, I barely watch any football any more,” Stef said. 

Sascha laughed. “I can’t escape it. My whole team and family are obsessed.”

Stef smiled. “My brothers follow it pretty closely.”

When everything was ready, Stef handed the glass bowl of popcorn to Sascha as he sat down. The hotel sofa was not a generous size, and the arms of the chair ate up a lot of couch space. This resulted in a precariously narrow gap between the boys. Stef almost laughed when he realised. It was going to be a long match.

Sascha, however, thought this seating arrangement was perfect. Halfway through the match, he faked a yawn and a stretch, and spread his arm over the chair back, towards Stef, with a cheesy grin. 

Stef couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s the oldest move in the book, Sascha. I’ve warned my sister about bad boys pulling that around her,” he warned. 

“Who says I’m making a move?” Sascha questioned, eyebrow raised, unable to hide a grin. 

Stef may have been a bit slow when it came to identifying flirting, but he decided that enough was enough. 

“Me,” Stef declared. He leaned into Sascha, placed a hand on his cheek, and softly kissed his lips. 

Sascha was a little surprised, but overwhelmingly relieved. Stef’s kiss was over as soon as it began, just a peck, and Sascha wasn’t satisfied with that. He leaned back in and closed the gap between them, and feeling bold, opened his lips slightly, and gently swiped Stef’s bottom lip with his tongue. Stef‘s lips parted under Sascha’s own, and their kiss settled into a gentle rhythm, giving and receiving, meeting each other in the middle. 

After a few minutes, Sascha withdrew, both of their faces flushed. “I must admit, I was pretty excited when you asked me out, cause I’d wanted to go out with you for a long time,” Sascha said. 

Stef laughed as the ridiculous start to this whole situation came back to him. “Actually, I didn’t text you, my sister did,” Stef cringed, rubbing the back of his head. 

Sascha seemed hurt. “Wait, did you not want-“

“Don’t be silly, of course I did,” Stef cut him off. “I was far too chicken, she knew I liked you and-“

“Awww, you like me?” 

Stef rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but grin. He leaned in to softly kiss Sascha’s lips again. “Does that answer your question?”

“Actually, I’m still not sure, can you tell me again?” Sascha teased. 

Stef rolled his eyes once again, leaning back into Sascha for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos would be much appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first dabble into tennis rpf! Please let me know what you think and if you’d be interested in reading more :) thank you for reading!


End file.
